My light hazel eyes peered up over the top of a hard book cover that had been dropped a few times, with slightly torn pages from careless readers.
I locked eyes with these familiar dark leather brown halos.
With that look, it was like a novel that had been kept shut for so long finally got a gust of wind to flip through all the pages.
The memories rushed back in.
I wished to jump back to page 56, where our story just started to get good.
Yet, that page was water logged.
The next chapters had few legible remains.
There were mornings spent at brunch, nights spent watching Netflix as I fell asleep in your lap, attempting to match at parties, our first Christmas
But the soft I love you's written in black started to fade against the eggshell stock.
Still, I refused to look away from my favorite novel yet.
The story had begun, the first chapters written,
but that gust of wind shown light brightest on the pages toward the end that remained empty.
I locked eyes with dark brown orbs, hoping to write the rest of our story together.